Wednesday, January 4, 2012

Band of Misfits

Sergeant Randolph
furrowed his brow and spat on the ground. He couldn’t believe what he was
seeing.

“Sign here, sir.”
Corporal Williams held out a clipboard and pen.

The Sergeant
ignored the clipboard and continued to watch the scene before him. “Where on
God’s green Earth did this ragtag crew of knuckleheads come from?” he asked.

The Corporal
followed his gaze and understood. The new squad that just entered basic
training was indeed a unique group of soldiers. Glancing across the obstacle
course they were overseeing, he spotted Reynolds hanging upside down from a foot tangled in the
climbing rope, Berstein bumping into trees because his helmet was on backwards
and Phillips huffing and puffing to pull his 400-pound body up the first steps
of the climbing wall. How Phillips ever passed the physical exam was beyond the
Corporal’s comprehension.

“Tell me
Corporal,” said the Sergeant, “Have you ever seen such a bumbling squad of screwballs in the US army?”

The Corporal
chose his words carefully. “I can’t say I have, sir. But while they may look
scrawny, they sure have spirit.”

“Spirit?”
repeated Sergeant Randolph, just as Private Franklin slid out of control down a
muddy hill, thereby causing the butt of another soldier’s rifle to hit him in
the groin. “Exactly what kind of spirit do you see in these clowns?”

“How about
Private Burns?” said the Corporal, nodding toward the man in question. “He’s
well-practiced in many forms of martial arts and weaponry, he follows orders to
the letter and he can reassemble his rifle faster than recruit I’ve ever
seen.”

They both watched
Private Burns—his face painted in camouflage—attack a dummy with his bayonet.
After adequately mauling the dummy, he dropped his weapon and began to
administer roundhouse kicks to its stuffed head. As if that wasn’t enough, he
then produced a pair of nunchucks from his belt and proceeded to administer a
whirlwind of torment onto the helpless mannequin. When the dummy fell to the
ground, he discarded the nunchucks, pulled a 35 Magnum handgun out of his belt
and fired the whole cartridge into the torso while screaming at the top of
his lungs. The dummy exploded, filling the air with its white stuffing.

The Sergeant let
out a grunt.

“Well,” said the
Corporal, scanning the other members of the squad, “Private Dexter looks
promising. His engineering skills are exceptional.”

The Sergeant spat
again. “Dexter, you say? Wasn’t he the one who tried to build an automatic mess
hall cleaner that exploded and showered the whole camp with creamed corn?”

The Corporal
nodded. “I’m afraid so, sir. But look how ingenious he is about overcoming the
climbing wall.”

The Corporal
pointed toward Dexter as he pulled a rope attached to an elaborate set of
pulleys that somehow connected to a harness around his waist. The ropes
gracefully pulled him up higher and higher. When he was just about to reach the
top of the wall, something went askew. The rope jammed and Private Dexter became stuck. He pulled
the rope harder and harder until it finally broke free, launching himself 30
feet in the air. He landed safely in the latrine.

“In case you have
any doubts, Corporal,” said the Sergeant, “I would prefer to have a soldier who
can climb the wall.”

The Corporal
blushed. “Yes sir. Though I would still like to point out Private Boomer. He
has shown himself to be very resourceful.”

“I’ll say,” said
the Sergeant. “I heard he cleaned out the whole officer’s tent in a poker game,
negotiated his way out of KP and somehow managed to have caviar and prime rib
delivered to him for lunch—and all on his first week here. Where is he, anyway?
Shouldn’t he be training with the rest of the squad?”

The Corporal
shook his head. “No sir, he’s with the medic. It appears he came down with a
bout of food poisoning.”

No sooner did he
say the words than the canvas of a nearby officer’s tent collapsed, exposing a
naked Private Boomer in bed with a nurse.

The Sergeant
looked directly at the Corporal. “Corporal, I don’t know why you insist on defending
this band of misfits. I’ve been in the army for thirty years, and for the first
time in my career, I’m ready to give up on a squad and tell them they can't cut it.”

“I understand
your apprehension, sir, but I believe this group of soldiers has potential. I
believe that when it matters, they’ll each pull together their unique abilities
and special skills to complete any mission that confronts them. I’m willing to bet
that when the time is right and nobody else can help, they’ll surprise
us all and save the day. I believe they’ll make us proud as long as we have
faith in them, sir.”

The Sergeant
thought about his words. “Do you really believe that, Corporal?”

The Corporal
stood tall and proud. “Yes sir, I do. You may think I’m crazy, but I have a gut
feeling this story will turn out like a comic movie with a heartwarming
ending.”

The Sergeant
nodded and both men turned their attention back to the unusual squad. Reynolds
was still hanging upside-down from the rope and Phillips had passed out
face-down in front of the climbing wall. A moment later, Private Burns appeared
on the scene carrying a box of grenades. When the Sergeant and Corporal
realized the danger, it was already too late. Burns tried to fill his pockets
with as many grenades as possible, but dropped one back into the box—still
holding the pin.

“Down!” The
Sergeant grabbed the Corporal and threw him to the ground an instant before the
massive explosion.

When the dust
settled, the two men stood up again to find that
the entire squad had been blown to smithereens. Not a single recruit survived. Even Private Boomer was found
impaled with one of Burns’ nunchucks. There was
blood everywhere, and horrific remains of corpses filled the scene. No doubt a heavy investigation would ensue, and both the Sergeant and Corporal would be facing a dishonorable discharge for letting such a catastrophe occur under their watch. Dozens of families would be devastated to learn about their losses, and the media was going to have a field day at the army's expense.

“Wow,” said the
Corporal, brushing himself off as he surveyed the scene. “I don’t think any of us expected that to happen.”